Dreams
by Raven Sharpe
Summary: In dreams he came... literally. Modern day. Complete.
1. Wednesday

She turned the lamp off and felt her heart tear open and the tears fell down her face.

"Please. Oh please, father. You promised. Send me the Angel of Music."

---------((0))

_A lone violin sang its lament to the dark plaza. I sat on the edge at a deserted cafe, absently admiring the twinkling lights. _

"_May I join you?" a rich deep voice asked from behind me._

_I turned and saw a dark figure standing behind the other chair at my table. "Why – why of course." I stuttered. _

_He gracefully sat and I strained my eyes to get a good look at him in the poor lighting. He wore black from head to toe, blending with the shadows perfectly. A mask of a beautifully sculpted face covered the whole of his face. "I wish to teach you to sing."_

"_Why?" I asked._

"_Because I am your Angel of Music." To prove his point, he began to sing to the violin. His voice was dark and rich and full, and it sang to me of love long lost in that shadowy plaza. _

"_What would you ask in return though, I can't afford to pay you..."_

"_I do not want, nor need your money. Let's just say that we shall work out payment later. Do we have a deal?" He held out a gloved hand. _

"_Yes. I accept." I sold my soul with the shake of a hand._

---------((0))

**Just a tired delusion mixed a few plot ideas up in my mind and – Ta da! Dreams. Dreams is a modern story. I look forward to any and all suggestions you can offer. If you like a character – tell me! If you hate a character or setting – tell me! If you love to hate a character – tell me! I apologize for the short chapters. They will get longer. I promise.**

** Until next chapter,**

** Raven Sharpe**

**(posted 01-24-10)**


	2. Thursday

"...cloudy again today with a chance of freezing drizzle. A high of 34 today and a low of 29 tonight, be very careful on those slick roads folks. We have reports of accidents on I90 heading south..."

Christine Daae groaned as she fumbled for the snooze button.

"Crap. Thursday," She swore. "Tomorrow's Friday. Tomorrow's Friday. One more damn blasted day 'till the weekend," she dragged herself out of bed. Consciousness and cold reality slapped her just as cruelly as the cold water of her shower.

_It was just a dream. Albeit weird dream_, she thought as she looked blankly into the mirror reflecting a woman about twenty-something years old dressed in a gray suit, a secondhand piece that was maybe a size or two loose in a few spots.

She was editing another Guidicelli book today. She hated the books about as mush as she hated the author. Senora Guidicelli (as she told every one to call her, as she was trying to "get in touch with her Italian roots") was the most arrogant writer Christine had ever had the misfortune to talk to. Christine shuddered as she thought of the woman and, after briefly considering calling in sick, sluggishly walked out to catch her bus.

---------((0))

"They had the most expensive salad's at GiJoe's but, oh my God, I cannot gain another pound before the signing. I have to lose those five pounds from Christmas of I won't fit into my outfit. It's so cute, Sorelli told me that I look simply ravishing on it. I am a bit worried about the material. God-awful stuff. Bruiser's hair gets all over it, but it's the only outfit that goes with those shoes I bought a few months ago," Carlotta Guidicelli sighed.

"What do you think-"

"And, of course I'll have to go shopping for a new bag. The purse that goes with the outfit – it simply is not big enough to give my poor Bruiser-pooh enough leg room. What? What do you need?" Carlotta barked finally noticing Christine for the first time.

Christine gritted her teeth. "Nothing. I can take care of it." Anything to get rid of this woman and her high-pitched and raspy voice.

"Ha! You are just wasting my time! I will complain to Richard! Maybe you won't be here to edit my next book! Ha!"

_What I would give never to edit another of your acclaimed "poetic" books ever again. _But, Sra. Guidicelli was a well-read and popular author. Christine knew there would be more. She had been dubbed as the unlucky one to deal with Sra. Guidicelli. She was stuck.

---------((0))

"She's so horrible. I could just... argh!"

"Have you tried to get your book published recently, Christine?" Meg was the one person Christine trusted with everything. They had been best friends throughout high school and had even roomed together in college. Meg had gotten her degree in ballet performance, though and was now performing in London. She knew that Christine had been trying to get published for two years now without any luck.

"No. I just kind of gave up."

"Like you gave up on singing?"

"No! You know that was different. My father -"

"Yes, you father died and told you he'd send you the Angel of Music, and the Angel would continue to teach you to sing. I know. But – he would not have wanted you to just give up like that."

"You don't understand. I just – couldn't sing after that. It was like that part of me was just... missing." Christine choked out a sob.

"It's O.K. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You will forgive your favorite prima ballerina, won't you?"

"You know you're only my favorite because you're thee only prima ballerina I know right?"

"So I'm forgiven?"

"Of course you're forgiven," Christine said in a soft tone. "Good night, Meg."

"G'night Christine. Don't let the bedbugs bite."

Christine was still laughing as she pushed "end."

---------((0))

"_May I have this dance, Christine?" He was there offering me a dark red rose. I nodded weakly and he swept me into his arms waltzing effortlessly with me. His arms were cold, cold as ice. Even through his gloves I could feel his freezing hands on my back. They contrasted greatly with the comfortable warmth of the ballroom around me. An invisible quartet was playing softly in the background._

"_Where are we?" I asked._

"_Somewhere between here and there, between now and then," he answered cryptically._

"_And what does that mean? I am sleeping, right?"_

"_So you say."_

"_Then, you are just a dream, no?"_

"_Am I?" I could tell he was smiling._

"_Why, then , can I feel your hands if I am, in fact, dreaming?"_

"_Let's just say, that I am a little more than just a dream."_

"_What are you?"_

"_I told you did I not?" I looked at him, confused. "I am you Angel of Music." _

_I raised my eyebrow. "Really?" I asked skeptically._

"_You did not believe me?" he said woundedly._

"_Fine. Are you really going to teach me to sing?"_

_In stead of answering, he pulled me away from the dance floor into the dark hallways. I looked at the shadows, stretching endlessly down the infinite hallway. He led me down the hallway, through several twists and turns stopping at a door that looked exactly like the hundred we had already passed. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door._

---------((0))

**I felt bad about only giving you one chapter. I think that the idea for this story came from some episode of Blood Ties. The strange places my mind goes... I am not quite sure myself exactly what Erik is, so I welcome any ideas.**

**Toodles,**

**~Raven Sharpe **

**(posted 01-25-10)**


	3. Friday

"...and in other news today, young woman, about 17 named Kayla and her companion Mfumbe are currently running from the law among her group of terrorists. She is highly dangerous and if you see her do not approach, instead call the Crimestoppers hotline at..." Christine hit the snooze button, groaning. _Just a little bit longer and I would have seen his music room._

"Oh well. At least today's Friday. Deadline day."

---------((0))

"Here's the Guidicelli book, all ready for your approval, Mr. Leferve." Christine handed him the finished manuscript.

"Lovely. Just set it on my desk, I'll get to it right away," he commented absently as he stirred his third creamer into his coffee.

_Maybe he'll get to it by next Friday_, she sighed. _At least he can't blame me for it being late._

--------((0))

Christine angrily strode through the park. She could not stand the confines of her small apartment any longer. The walls seemed to close in on her. The gravel crunched underneath her sneakers. Christine barely noticed as the sky darkened and the street lamps began to turn on. It was only when she found herself in a pitch black part of the forest that she stopped.

She turned around slowly. _Someone's watching me. Oh God! Help me._

"Who's there?" she asked feeling stupid. Silence suffocated her and she turned down the path to run in the opposite direction.

_Crunch, crunch. Crunch, crunch. _

_Oh God! They're behind me!_

_Crunch, crunch. Crunch, crunch._

_If I can only make it to that light!_

_Crunch, crunch. Crunch, crunch._

_Holy Hell! Oh God save me!_

Christine slipped and fell on the patch of ice. The last thing she saw before the blackness took her was a dark shadow leaning over her.

---------((0))

"_Are you hungry?I noticed you forgot to eat dinner tonight. 'Twould be rude of me to have you sing n an empty stomach, you know."_

_I was in some sort of dining room this time. He took my arm and escorted me to the long ebony table and pulled out crimson high backed chair for me. I sat staring at all of the food before me. It looked like someone had taken one dish from every country in the world and set them all before me. He sat at the opposite end of the table. _

"_None of it's poisoned." He chuckled. I shivered. The room had seemed to drop a few degrees in temperature. "I would never hurt you. Please, trust me in this." _

_I nodded and started loading my plate with food. He sat, with only a wineglass in hand, not even drinking the wine. "You are not going to eat?"_

"_It is for your comfort that I do not," he commented sadly._

"_Oh." We sat and I ate. He started talking about music, everything from overtones to the anatomy of the voice, and I listened mesmerized, soaking up every detail, praying I would remember it when I awoke. As I finished, he stood._

"_I never did ask your name. You seem to know mine."_

_He hesitated a moment. "Erik. That is my name. Yes. Erik." He sighed. He lead me out of the room and we traveled again down the dark twists and turns and hundreds of identical doors and pulled out the same small bronze key. The lock clicked and he pushed open the door. Light streamed into the hallway. I gasped. A huge chandelier hung in the center of the room, sprinkling rainbows and pure white light across the eight walls. An organ dominated three of the walls, the burnished bronze pipes glowing in the soft light. Sheets of music were strewn everywhere, some printed, others handwritten, all in the same, illegible scrawl and red ink. An ancient violin sat atop a glossy black grand piano. Every instrument imaginable lined the walls and, somehow, I knew that Erik could play them all. He strode over to the piano, setting the violin reverently on the coffee table and opening the grand piano. He sat and started playing. Never had I heard such music! The warm, full tones glided from his dancing fingers. I wanted to dance to his tune. I could feel his joy well up within me and I wanted to laugh in pure elation. He gradually turned to scales. And so began our lesson._

---------((0))

_I had been singing for what seemed like hours. Finally, Erik called a break. I went over and collapsed into one of the two overstuffed chairs next to the coffee table. He chuckled and handed me a glass of water. _

"_You did quite well for our first lesson. I am afraid, though, that I may have kept you too long. I must return you." He escorted me to the door._

---------((0))

**Starting with Chapter 2, there is a reference to some movie, book, famous poem, play, etc. Review and guess to which work I have made a reference to. **

** ~Raven Sharpe**

**(posted 1-31-10)**


	4. Saturday

Clear sunshine shone through the wispy white curtains. Christine stretched and yawned. She sat up and immediately laid back down on her bed as her head pounded. She reached for her nightstand and found Advil and a glass of water sitting there innocently.

_What the Hell? Shit. _She thought remembering last night. _How the hell did I get back to my apartment? I didn't put those there, either. _She looked over at the painkiller. She took the painkiller and rolled out of bed. The aroma of coffee lured her into the kitchen and she fixed some eggs for breakfast as she pondered the night before. She shrugged and gave up. She didn't feel like she had been violated. _Maybe answers will pop up later. _Christine looked over at the clock. _1:00! I'm late!_

---------((0))

Christine dashed out the door after throwing on her yoga clothes. She was a bit uncomfortable with the amount of skin the tank top showed, but it worked and was what most of the others in her class wore.

She ran into the classroom and tossed off her jacket as she spread her mat and joined in the warm-up exercises.

Class stretched long, but Christine found herself relaxing further and further, forgetting about last week's misadventures.

Jules Andres skipped up to Christine after the class. "So how was last week, Christine? Meet any new hunks you want to share with me?" They both laughed, thinking of Christine's last date, an awkward dinner with Sven, last year's intern. He had tripped and the waiter had spilled Parmesan fish all over Christine's favorite little black dress.

"No, sorry. Maybe next week. You?" Christine asked.

"Well, there was that one – Holy Hell, Christine, what happened to your back!" Jules dragged her over to the large mirror at the end of the room.

Scars covered her lower back, depicting three roses, one red, two white. Two old, one new. Christine shuddered. Three roses.

"I d-don't know." Christine stuttered.

"Creepy..."

Christine shrugged her jacket on. "I don't know. I really don't..."

They left the studio together. A blond haired man brushed past them.

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself, Christine."

"I promise," Christine shivered at the sudden draft around her.

---------((0))

Christine stood at her mirror tracing the scars with her fingers. _Who was that guy that we passed on the way out? I could've sworn I've seen him before. Hmmm... Not a problem that a bucket of ice cream and a movie couldn't fix._

---------((0))

_Brahms was softly drifted from the ebony piano. The soft, sad strains gently woke me. I stretched in the warm brown leather chair. A soft grey blanket was draped over my shoulders. I looked over at the piano to see Erik's dark figure sitting at the piano his fingers dancing along the black and white keys._

"_Good morning, or rather, good evening," he commented casually, not turning from the keys. I walked up behind him. What laid beneath his mask? The question was like an illness, it ate me from within propelling me towards him. Of its own accord, my hands reached up towards his face._

_The music went silent abruptly as my wrists were twisted painfully._

"_Never touch my mask," his whisper cut through the silence. His cold ungloved hands loosened their grip on my wrists. His eyes, filled with the passionate fires of Hell held mine like a bird caught in the gaze of a snake. They held something I could not describe. They were conflicted with something between want, anger, and maybe even fear. I felt consumed by them._

_I jumped as he abruptly turned his back to me. He started digging in the stack of music and I took up my place at the curve of the piano. He kept his head down, not looking at me again for the rest of lesson, barely speaking, only to give a command. Afterwards, he left me for a moment. I decided to follow. I steppe out into the dark hallway leaving the door open behind me. I turned to the right and headed out through the mansion. I wandered for awhile before I realized that I had no idea where I was. All of the doors were perfectly identical. I turned back to where I had come from. I could have sworn that I had turned there! I turned and ran blindly, turning down hallway by hallway. A dead end!_

_I started trying each of the doors._

_Locked. Locked. Locked. Open. I sighed my relief and stepped inside the door at the end of the hallway._

_I squinted at the shadows around me, unable to make out the edges of the room. Staves of music seemed to glow from the walls, illuminated by the sparse candlelight. I touched the silver embroidery, "Dies Irae, Dies Illa, Solvet Sanctum in Favilla." _

_I shuddered. The Requiem Mass. The ancient funeral Mass was embroidered all over the walls. I scanned the room. I the middle was a six- sided box. A...coffin. I backed up slowly. A solid cold barrier stopped me, wrapping its thin arms around me._

"_You really are much too curious for your own good, you know," Erik breathed into my hair._

"_What – what is this room, Erik?" I squeaked. _

"_Why, my dear, it is my bedroom, of course," he explained as if to a small child. "You know one must get used to all things, especially those that last an eternity."_

_I shivered, "Please, let me go home now."_

"_My pleasure," he remarked sarcastically. He spun me around and bowed shortly as he opened the door._

**Hmmm... It seems our little ingénue has gotten herself into more trouble than she thought.**

**To M. Night Wolfalona: I have never seen "Nightmare on Elm Street." I'll have to go out and rent it now. To be truthful, I have only a vague idea where this story is going. The plot is constantly changing in my head. Thank you for your review.**

** With all the truth one can maintain while writing lies, **

** Raven P. Sharpe**

**(posted Valentine's Day, 2010)**


	5. Sunday

Christine woke to the cold. She looked over at the dark alarm clock. _Damn. No power._

She wrapped her quilt around her and plodded down the dark steps to the pantry. She started lighting the candles. All of the candles. She placed them so that no corner was unlit, no shadows threatened.

Christine sat at the piano. She stared at the keys. _Erik had played the piano so well... _She reached up and set her hands up on the keys, and started to sing.

I have never sung this well... maybe... Erik... It can't be. He's just a dream.

---------((0))

_Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong._

Christine genuflected in the pew and stepped out of the shrine of Saint Glinda into the sunshine. It's warmer than it has been all week, she smiled as she walked down the road towards her apartment, passing through the various cafes. She bumped into a man and was rewarded by his middle finger shoved in her face. Christine blushed and started to walk faster.

"Oh! Excuse me! I'm so sorry," she exclaimed as she surveyed the blond, blue-eyed man who she had just caused to spill coffee down himself.

"That's O.K." he sighed. "Ill be fine... sorry, what is you name?"

"Christine. Christine Daae."

"Raoul de Chagny. Have we met before? I could have sworn I've heard that name before."

"Oh! We knew each other back in Kindergarten!"

"Of course! How could I forget you and our playground wedding?" Raoul smiled. "Hey do you want to come in and have some coffee with me?"

"Oh, I couldn't"

Raoul grinned. "It would make up for the coffee you spilled on me earlier. Come on, Little Lotte, I'm buying."

"O.K. … I guess"

"So, how's it going? I haven't seen you in what, ten years? How's your father?"

"He..um... died my senior year of high school."

"I'm sorry," he put his hand over hers. She stared sadly at them.

"Anyways, I'm an editor know at Leferve publishing. I've been editing Carlottta Guidicelli's books lately."

"That's great. I haven't really had much free time to read lately with managing my father's stock broking business." Raoul's Blackberry buzzed, as if on cue. He pulled it out and checked it. "Sorry. I gotta go, but here," he pulled out his business card and wrote something on the back, "is my number. Call me if you ever need help. So long, Little Lotte." Christine closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of her coffee and the sunshine through the front window. _Wow, she is more beautiful than ever_, Raoul thought as he left the coffee shop.

---------((0))

_I haven't seen him in ages._ Christine blushed. _He sure is hot now. _She inspected her back and frowned – four roses now, three old, one new.

---------((0))

"_Who is that boy?" he hissed near silently in my ear._

"_He-he's no one – what boy?" I blundered._

"_I forbid you to see him," he commanded quietly. I could feel the cold seeping through my bones. I stood gathering my courage._

"_And why should I do that?"_

_He straightened to his full height above me his eyes burning with fire straight from Hell. " You agreed to my deal. You will obey me."_

"_And why would I do that."_

"_You will do it. You would want your pretty boy to remain breathing do you not?" he saw the look of horror on my face and smiled. "Good. I am understood. Come let us go sing." He offered his hand to help me out of the deep, warm leather chair._

_My voice cracked several times before Erik's fist banged down on the piano. _

"_Focus," he growled._

"_How can I focus? You – you...you cannot stop staring at me!" I threw down my music and flopped down in the chair. "Why? Why are you doing this? Please! He's no harm to me or you! Hell, you're only a dream," I mumbled._

"_Am I? You shook my hand. You made the deal. You must accept what I ask in turn," He smirked._

_I ran at the door. " Let me out!" I opened the door. Only cement wall hid behind the door. " Let me out, you monster!"_

"_Yes, monster I am," he mused. "You have not finished your lesson."_

_He walked back over to the piano. He pulled out a new set of sheet music and started to sing. Oh, how he sang! I could not resist his voice. His voice willed me to come, to stand next to the piano. I could not resist. He finished his song and I stood at the curve at the piano. _

"_Sing," he softly commanded._

_I sang._

**I must admit that I am impressed. Five reviews. Thank you to all who reviewed. You have no idea how you help to make a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day so much better. (End of warm fuzzy.) The chapters are short, I know. I am not very good at writing long chapters and, for how this story is organized, I would end up boring you to death. Intriguing idea, LoveLiberty (). I cannot tell you if I shall use it or not, though. 'Twould spoil the surprise.**

** Enjoying my "canned capitalism",**

** Raven Sharpe**

**(posted 02-21-10)**


	6. Three Days

---------((0))

**Monday**

---------((0))

_9:15. Oh, shit! I slept through my alarm! I've never done this before! Damn!_

Chrisine rolled over and grabbed her cell phone.

"Monchamin and Leferve Publishing Company, how may I help you?"

"Hi, this is Christine Daae, I need to speak with Mr. Leferve right away please."

"One moment please."

"Hello?"

"Sir, I am so sorry. I overslept. I don't -"

"Christine. It's just fine. Clam down. We were quite worried about you, actually... you've never been late before."

"I'll be in as soon as I can. I'm so sorry. It won't ever happen again."

"Good. We'll see you soon."

---------((0))

"... and here is your new assignment. Ms. Guidicelli ought to have a new book ready in a month. Until then, here is a collection of short stories written by her friend, Laureen Sorelli. Any questions?"

"Ah – well maybe, could you, um, look at this for me? It came across my desk and, well, I thought it would be nice to have your opinion on it. Whether or not, we should publish it, that is."

"Sure. Leave it on my desk and I'll take a look at it sometime this week."

"Thanks." Christine slid quickly out of Leferve's office, leaving the manuscript of her book on his desk.

---------((0))

Christine was the last out of the office. It was midnight, and she had finally finished the first story. Her bag held the manuscript for the second story. The first story had been about a vampire stalking a girl in the poorly lit streets of a small town on the west coast. How he slowly fell in love with her, still seeking her lifeblood.

She picked up her pace, striding through the deserted streets under the yellow street lamps. Her breath came out in small yellow puffs in front of her. The street lamp above her flickered and a thunderous crash resounded behind Christine. She took off sprinting, not stopping until all three locks on her door were enabled and a chair was wedged under the doorknob.

She raked her hand through her long blonde hair. She hated it – it was straight as a poker and never seemed to cooperate with what she wanted it to do. Not to mention that it constantly frizzed. Christine sighed. _Maybe I should get it cut. Hmmm... no, not now. Maybe next week._

Christine settled down in her red overstuffed armchair under the warm light of a lamp. She pulled out Sorelli's manuscript and started the long process of editing the story.

"_You are late."_

Christine whipped around.

"Who was that?" she demanded. She stood, knocking all the papers to the floor. "Show yourself." Christine walked over to the kitchen to the block of knives, grabbing the biggest one in the block. "I swear I'll use it." She cautiously inspected the apartment. _No one._

She took the knife back over to the chair with her along with a fresh cup of Russian tea. Christine gasped. All of the papers were stacked neatly on the seat of the chair.

---------((0))

**Tuesday**

---------((0))

"Geez. Did you even go home?" Lauren James asked.

"Yeah, for a few hours," was Christine's curt response. Lauren shrugged and left to grab some more coffee.

---------((0))

"Morning, Christine. How is the Sorelli project coming?" Mr. Leferve asked.

"I'm nearly through the third story. I think I'll have most of it completed by the time I leave tonight."

"Excellent. I checked through that piece you gave me yesterday," he looked at Christine's expression mistaking it for shock. "I know, I'm actually on time for once," he joked. "Anyways, I like it. I think that new author is exactly what Leferve Publishing needs. Could you get in contact with them. I understand if they want to remain anonymous, but it would be nice to talk to them and at least congratulate them." Leferve rubbed the back of his neck.

Christine, sitting in shock slowly recovered her nerves and replied, "I'll get in contact with them. For sure. Thank you Mr. Leferve!"

---------((0))

"I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me tonight."

"I would love to, Raoul!"

"Excellent! I'll pick you up at – does 6:30 work for you?"

"It does. I'll see you then!"

"Bye, Christine."

---------((0))

"Meg! Oh my God! I got my book published!"

"That's great Christine!"

"And Raoul de Chagny asked me out tonight!"

"Oh my God! That guy you liked way back in grade school?"

"The one and only!"

"Do you still have that strapless blue sparkly dress?"

"The one we bought last summer?"

"Yup. You are going to wear it to night and knock lover boy off his feet."

"You are a godsend, Meg."

"Oh – I'm going to be in town next week for a few days. We are totally going shopping. I'll call. See you then Chrissy!"

"Bye!"

Pure, unadulterated joy flooded through Christine's veins as she pushed the end button. Finally, something was going right.

---------((0))

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Christine rushed over answer the door. Raoul stood framed by the door, angelic in a white three piece suit and light blue tie. He flashed a set of perfectly straight white teeth and offered her a boquet of a dozen creamy roses. Christine flushed as she accepted them and hurried off to find her purse. She took Raoul's arm and he led her out to a red Porsche. Christine blushed again as he opened the door for her and helped her in. Raoul climbed in and the engine purred to life. He set some pop music quietly in the background.

"If you want to change the music go ahead. Just avoid the last two numbers for radio. I'm not particularly a fan of country." Raoul chuckled.

"Neither am I." Christine blushed.

"Edit anything good lately?"

"Hmmm. Right now I'm working on a collection of short horror stories."

"Really? I wish I had more time to read,but with the firm and all..." he paused. "Oh well. We've been thinking about buying into Leferve Publishing. Although," he grinned, "you didn't hear it from me, but I hear that Leferve is retiring soon."

"Really? Well – that explains a lot. I wonder who will take his place?"

"Rumor is that he is still looking for a replacement."

"I never would have guessed. When will he retire - do you know?"

"I heard that it could be as early as next week."

"Wow, that soon."

"Yup. I hope your new boss will still allow me to see you for coffee breaks." he grinned mischievously.

"Ugh. That was a terrible incident."

"Hey, if you hadn't made me spill coffee down myself, I never would have found you again."

"Well, thank God for mistakes then." Christine laughed.

---------((0))

"I had a great time." Christine stood in her door frame. "We need to do this again sometime."

"I agree," Raoul said as he leaned in and kissed her. It was a simple kiss, pure and innocent. There were no hidden feelings or complications to it. It was a beautiful thing, shared between two beautiful people.

"Good night, Christine," Raoul said softly, still savoring the taste of their kiss on his lips.

"Good night, Raoul," Christine smiled gently as she shut the door.

She sighed as she walked over to the coffee maker, turning it on, determined, as like last night to not sleep.

---------((0))

**Wednesday**

---------((0))

_Ugh. Cannot focus today. _Christine groaned reading the same sentence for the fifth time. "Mr. Leferve, can I take a quick coffee break? I'm almost done with Sorelli's final story."

"Sure. Are you O.K. Christine? You look as if you haven't slept in a week."

"I'm fine. I'll be right back." Christine hastily responded as she grabbed her purse and flew out the door.

She could almost feel herself falling asleep as she waited in line _forever_ for her triple shot expresso.

"Christine Day-ay. Triple shot expresso mocha." Christine grabbed it and hurried out of the shop.

"_You have been gone far too long."_

Christine didn't even see the bus coming.

**Before you all grab the punjab lassos sitting on your desks, remember that medical care nowadays is quite speedy and effective even cities such as Christine's. As to xXxMusexXx's guess on the story hidden in chapter five – well I guess I'll give you just this one. Christine visits the chapel of Saint Glinda, a setting in The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West.**

**Ecstatic over my I in Lit Program,**

**Raven Sharpe**

**(posted 02-27-10)**


	7. Two Weeks

"_Welcome home," a chilly voice greeted me from the armchair next to the bed I was laying upon. "I must say how foolish that was of you. You know you shall never be able to escape me."_

"_I can try," I commented and instantly regretted, seeing the look in his eyes. It was almost... pain. He quickly recovered. He stood and turned his back to me._

"_This is your room. The bathroom is over here along with a closet." He said motioning to two of the three doors in the room. "As your host, I wish you to be comfortable. If you find that I have missed any item that you might need, do not hesitate to ask."_

"_How long am I going to be here?" Stupid question. I never should have asked._

"_I have not decided yet. Five days, maybe."_

"_What about – about..."_

"_You got hit by a bus, don't you remember? You really should pay attention to where you are going, dear. Maybe if you got more sleep..."_

"_Argh!" I rushed at him, trying to beat him with my fists._

"_Now, now, that is no way to treat your host. I shall be back in one hour. Compose yourself and, perhaps freshen up a bit."_

_He let go of my wrists and strode out of the door, closing it behind him. I counted to thirty and tried the door. Locked. Should have figured._

_I paced the room. Would he even let me go? Or would he simply keep me here forever? What would that mean? Would my body just die? Was I in the hospital right now? Was Raoul worried for me? What would Erik do to me? Why was he even doing this?_

_I laughed at my naivety and my stupidity at making the bargain._

_I cried thinking of how the hell I was going to get out of this mess. Who in the world would believe me, anyways?_

_I curled up in a corner, alternately laughing and sobbing. I didn't even hear Erik's knock._

"_My poor Christine. Oh, Christine. Erik is so sorry. Please, Christine. Erik loves you more than Music itself. Erik would never harm a hair on your head, he swears. Please, come eat lunch with your Erik."_

_I bent to his pitiful pleas and looked up into his deep golden eyes. I saw such warmth there, so much love. It scared me and soothed me. I hesitantly smiled up at him and saw his eyes light up with pure joy. He stood and offered me his gloved hand. I took it and helped me up onto my feet. He grabbed a handkerchief out of some hidden pocket and wiped away the tears, streaming down my face. I could have sworn he wore a gentle, loving smile beneath that mask of his._

_---------((0))_

_We dined in the same dark dining room. Each time he opened a door, he reached into a hidden pocket and pulled out a different key and inserted it into the lock._

_This time an array of Japanese food was spread before me. Plates of sushi and rice rolls filled my end of the table. He pulled out my chair and I sat. He silently poured me a cup of hot tea and left my side to sit on the other end of the table._

"_Do you have a last name, Erik?"_

"_No," he answered stiffly._

"_I'm sorry," I said, ashamed of my faux pas._

"_Do not be, Christine. It is not your fault my mother never even gave me her or her lover's name."_

_He sounded almost... human. "My mother died giving birth to me, and my father died only a few years ago." A tear rolled down my cheek, lonely and cold._

_He looked up from his wineglass. He looked conflicted, like he wanted to wipe the tear away, yet afraid of my reaction. He loved me. He loved me. _

"_Surely, if you love me, you will let me go," I mumbled down to my plate._

_He was taken aback. "I will. I told you. Of course I shall set my Christine free."_

"_Promise me?"_

"_I swear."_

_---------((0))_

_Erik had pulled out a duet from Othello to work on. My soul soared. My heart felt whole for the first time in ages. I felt gravitated towards Erik. What was behind his mask? I was no longer was just curious. I needed to know. I needed to know like one needs oxygen. He was passionately swaying to the music, he probably would never even notice. Just a quick peek, I told myself. It couldn't be so bad. _

_What a foolish child I was._

_I ripped the mask from his face. The air choked with a hideous silence. The clatter of the mask hitting the floor broke the silence._

_His face – I can't describe it. You have to have seen it to know what I'm talking about. Decaying cadavers do not have a face so ugly._

_Do not ask me what happened next. I will forever try to forget it. He yelled, he screamed at me, I deserved every second of it._

_Finally, he broke down, sobbing. "You can never leave now. You would not return to your Erik. No, forever and a day shall you stay here." He crawled to the glorious organ and started playing. Only his "Don Juan Triumphant" could ever have been so macabre. _

_I finally understood. He was tormented in his ugliness, left to rot. He had hidden away and lived out his miserable existence, using his genius to create beauty that no one but him would ever see. He ventured out one day and saw beauty, and fell in love with that beauty, knowing that never, could it be his._

_I walked slowly towards his back, frightened that he would snap and try to strangle me again. I touched his shoulder and felt him tense._

"_Erik." He turned away so that I didn't see his face. "Erik," I repeated. "Erik. Please. I'm not afraid of your face. It doesn't matter. I'm sorry for ripping off your mask like that."_

_He looked up at me his gold eyes tumultuous as the sea. I was going to go to hell for lying. "Really?" he asked hopefully. "Oh, Christine," he moaned. "I am not worthy of your apology. Or even to ask your forgiveness."_

"_I forgive you Erik," I looked deep into his eyes. _

"_May I... hug you?" he asked, looking foolish. I threw my arms around his bony, cold body. He hesitantly put his arms around me, gently squeezing me, like I would break. He jumped up from the stool and almost threw me off balance. "Come, Christine. Come with me," he asked excitedly, tugging on my hand. I followed him into the hallway._

_He pulled me down the hallway. I almost had to run to keep up with his long strides. Finally he stopped in front of a nondescript door. He pulled out an old skeleton key and inserted it into the lock. The door opened to a walled garden._

_The full moon reflected off of the white roses that were scattered along the walkways next to roses that appeared to be almost black. My white dress almost seemed to glow in the pale light. It was beautiful. How could a man so ugly, so filled with death create such beauty? A fountain sparkled in the center of the garden next to a small table covered in a white cloth. His golden eyes glowed in the night as he led me to the table pulling out a chair for me on the soft grass. The smell of lavender floated in the warm air and Erik set a piece of cheesecake and a glass of a dark red wine in front of me. He also sat in front of an identical spread. We talked on everything. He told me that he wanted me to sing and that there was a contest coming up that we'd be preparing a song for. Without his mask, Erik was shy and childlike. I couldn't really see his face in the dark anyways. Finally, the sky was turning gray and I yawned._

"_Come, you must rest. I would not want you to fall ill," Erik said. I picked up my dish. "Leave it."_

"_O.K." We walked back through the door and stopped again at a door that looked the same as the hundred before it. "Erik, how do you tell between the doors?"_

_He chuckled. "The door does not matter. It only matters which key I put in the door." I looked at him, puzzled. He laughed again. "I am a Keymaker. I make you see what I want you to see. Except well..."_

_he trailed off._

"_So if you wanted a new kitchen, all you have to do is make a key for it?"_

"_Hmmm...it is a bit more complex than that, but yes, that is the general idea."_

"_So are you real?"_

"_What do you define as real?"_

"_Good point." He stood before me, a dream I could touch. I could taste his food. I could sing. He opened the door and bid me good night. For the first time in a week, I enjoyed a deep, dreamless sleep._

_---------((0))_

_Seconds lapsed into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days. There were no clocks in Erik's domain. I had no idea if I had slept for six hours or sixteen. I had no idea how long Erik kept me guest in his house. I didn't feel like a prisoner. He was so kind and polite, I suppose he was trying to make up for his outburst on my first day. _

_We sang. Oh, what song! If you have never felt the music course through your veins and dull your mind until you are no longer one person, but music itself, I pity you. It is the most addictive drug out there, for after only one hit, it is forever ingrained in your soul, and you will crave it for the rest of your life._

_So it was with Erik. The deal I made with him was the best and the worst bargain I had ever made. I would never be free of him, nor was I sure that I ever wanted to be._

_---------((0))_

**This chapter has a reference to my favorite movie(s). I am excited/nervous. I am going to be playing "Maple Leaf Rag" for a bunch of teenagers. Then, next Saturday, I perform my Literary Program for three judges. And, I find out if I got a huge scholarship. And, I find our if I bombed that Calculus test. And, I turn in my National Honors Society application. It all compiles. At least the musical is over. Thank God.**

**Your agnostic author,**

**Raven Sharpe**

**(posted 03-07-10)**


	8. Mercredi

**I feel that I should warn you of a scene with drunk males in their 20's – 30's. The rating is teen.**

---------((0))

"Sir. You know, we could call you if she woke up."

Raoul hesitated. "Call me as soon as she wakes."

"We'll make sure to," the nurse looked up from her charts taking in the handsome man behind her._ I wish my fiancé was that hot. _

Raoul hesitated before walking out the door. "As soon as she wakes up."

"I promise."

Raoul walked out the door running his hand through his blonde hair.

Christine groaned. "Too bright."

The nurse ran over to the light switch and adjusted the lights. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been run over."

"You have. You have been unconscious for nearly two weeks. We were beginning to worry you wouldn't wake up. How many fingers am I holing up?"

"Four."

"What is your name?"

"Christine Marie Daae."

"What day is today?"

Christine thought for a moment. "Wednesday."

"Good. I'll call in the doctor to see you. Oh, and call your eye candy. He hasn't left your side for more than half an hour these past two weeks. Wish George was that dedicated," she grumbled as she left the room.

"Oh, Erik." Raoul stood outside the door listened. "Why did you have to complicate things? Why can't life just be simple?"

Raoul walked in holding a Starbucks coffee cup. "Who's Erik."

"No one," Christine answered quickly. She blushed. "It's nice to see you, Raoul."

"It's good to see you're awake. I was so worried," Raoul said, trying to squelch his curiosity about this 'Erik'. "They were just about to give up." _I was just about to give up_, he thought. "You're really lucky."

"Lucky!" Christine laughed. "I got hit by a bus. Remember?"

"Well, I suppose I gotta give you that one. But you did survive. Didn't your dad ever to tell you to look _both_ ways _before_ crossing the street?" he teased.

"He probably mentioned it once or twice." Christine thought of her over-protective father. "You know, he never would let me learn to ride a bike. He was so afraid I'd get hit by a car or something on my way to the pool." They laughed.

"Remember how we used to sneak into my house and watch PG-13 movies."

"Even after we were thirteen."

"Ah, old habits die hard."

The glass door slid open. "Well good afternoon, Miss Daae. I guess it would be pointless to ask if you were feeling well," the doctor jested.

"Good point, Dr. -"

"Naismith. At your service." He shook Christine's hand.

"I'm sorry, Christine. I have to go to a mandatory meeting. I'll be back later." He smiled weakly.

"See you later," Christine grinned.

"Well. Let's see." Dr. Naismith flipped through her charts. "There is slight atrophying of the muscles and you broke three ribs and cracked two more, along with breaking your left arm, but otherwise you were quite lucky." He chuckled. "No internal damage. You should be able to check out sometime tomorrow."

"Wonderful! I must be so late on a couple deadlines."

"Ah. There is one more matter," he blushed. "When they were – ah – undressing you, they found... well, some unusual scarring. It looks a bit like flowers of some sort. Well, they were documented for fear of your mental health, but when a nurse came in the other night to change the bedclothes, it was noted that there were several more. We watched this condition each night, and each morning there would be a new scar." Dr. Naismith ran his hand through his hair and threw himself down onto a chair. "I looked through everything. Every medical book known to doctors and found nothing. I was desperate. I told my wife about your case and she advised me to look into supernatural sources. I didn't know what else to do." He walked over to the window and pretended to look out. "A psycic told me that you had made a contract with some ghost or something. She told me that I better pray that the spirit let you go of its own volition. She gave me this to give to you if you woke up." Christine accepted the sealed white envelope. "I hope Miss Daae that you get better soon. I'll be back tomorrow to sign your release forms. Bye." He started walking out the door.

"Wait!"

"Yes?"

"Does Raoul know?"

The doctor sighed. "No. He doesn't."

"Thanks," Christine said sincerely.

"No problem." He bowed out of the room.

Christine sat looking at the letter. _It couldn't hurt. I'll just peek._ She paused. _That's what got me in trouble earlier. Maybe it is best if I didn't know. But – the doctor – he seemed so concerned. I'll just read it. It can't hurt me._

She opened the letter mangling the edges of the envelope in her hurry.

---------((0))

_Christine -_

_You are probably beating yourself up for your decision. Rightly so. What you did was stupid. I may be able to help you rectify the situation. _

_I couldn't tell from my scrying if you bound yourself to a demon or a very powerful spirit, but whomever you bound yourself to is stronger than anything I have ever encountered. _

_You must come to see me as soon as you can. Everyday your bond with him will grow stronger. I only hope that it is not too late already. Your possessor will slowly integrate himself into your aura until finally you no longer have the will to leave him. Come to see me as soon as you possibly can. I can't stress how important this is. I may be able to free you of him forever._

_Katie Simmons-Shriver_

_P.S. My cell number is 576-2303. My address is 1504 S. Michigan St._

---------((0))

_Shit. This is deeper than I thought._

---------((0))

"How's that bitch of yours Raoul?"

"Does she fuck real good?"

_I never should have come_, Raoul thought.

"Oh, don't tell me you haven't yet," Phillipe lamented. "You really out to man it up and just fuck her. Or are you too busy handing her flowers and reciting poetry like a little girl?"

"Asshole," Raoul gritted his teeth, keeping his gaze fixed on his beer.

"Whoa, he actually can swear," Drew mocked from across the table.

"What, are you afraid that dear Mommy is going to wash out your mouth with soap," Blake sing-songed.

"Shut the fucking hell up."

"Whoaaa!" All three of the other men cried together. They laughed drunkenly as Raoul stared sourly at his drink. He had been nursing it for the last few hours. _Why the hell did I come? _

"I'm leaving," he stated quietly.

"Going to go stare at your precious whore, you fag?" Phillipe cackled.

"Goodbye." Raoul walked out stiffly, tossing a few bills onto the counter.

---------((0))

_I looked around my room. The keys Erik had given me lay innocently on my vanity, all in a perfect row. I had never woken up alone in his house before. I grabbed the keys and went exploring. I was bored from spending all afternoon alone in the hospital._

_I opened a door and came upon his library. His library was everything I thought a library ought to be. It was dark, but warm with those ladders that slide, and every couple of shelves you would come on an overstuffed armchair with a small end-table next to it. I never actually saw the walls to this rooms – it just seemed to go on forever. I had spent a good amount of time of my imprisonment – no, stay – with Erik in this room, pouring over the infinite shelves. If I went in one direction for long enough, I found that the books started to be in foreign languages, some I could not even start to recognize. Some of the books were so old that I was afraid to touch them, lest they fall apart in my hands. I looked hurriedly through a few shelves and sensed that Erik was not in the dark library._

_I walked back out into the silent hallway. The hallways were always cold. I never knew why. I mentioned it to Erik and he mumbled something about have to provide heat to infinity or something like that. They were grey too. The most bland, generic shade of gray you could ever imagine. You could goo insane from the dullness of those hallways. I closed the library door behind me and inserted a different key into the door's lock. Instantly I could hear Erik playing the organ._

_All the stops were pulled out and he was playing his "Don Juan Triumphant." It was more beautiful now. Sweeping runs came together and, just as quickly, flew apart again like two magnets. He paused to write on the sheet music sitting on the stand._

"_Good evening," he greeted, not even looking away from the score. "I apologize for not being there when you awoke. I felt so inspired and had to write this section down."_

"_It's O.K."_

_He sighed and turned to me. He wasn't wearing his mask as he had taken to not doing after I had seen his face. "Erik is so lucky to have his Christine who forgives him." My throat closed up. How could I ever be rid of him? How could I do that to him? "Christine is here for her lesson, yes?" I nodded. "Then she must have it! Come. Come stand by the piano." He leapt up and sat at the Steinway. "What would Christine like to do today? Would she like to work on Pelleas et Melisande or on a new piece I wrote for her?" _

"_The piece you wrote would be O.K."_

"_Of course it will, come stand by me. I haven't had time to make a copy for myself."_

"_It's dark as midnight _

_At half past ten._

_The absence of all light_

_Is paramount._

_Color leeched away,_

_By the light of the moon._

_Black and white._

_White and black._

_Evil and good._

_Good and evil._

_No one hides at night. _

_No one lies._

_No one sees at night._

_For Night, like love is blind._

---------((0))

**Not my best attempt at poetry, I know. Pretty atrocious, in fact. Want to see better? Keep reviewing. Visit my profile. I have a better one that I think I will use in a future chapter. Oh, and the reference in this chapter is an accidental historical reference to a sport I sucked at.**

**Yours Truly,**

**Raven Sharpe**

**posted (03-??-10)**


	9. Jeudi

"It's eleven o' clock! I'm taking her home!" Raoul argued with the nurse.

"You can't she's not awake yet!"

"It's eleven! I should be able to wake her up!" Raoul pushed past the nurse.

"No! Sir! You can't! I'm calling security!"

Raoul paused. "Fine then. When can I see her." He clamped his jaw, trying to keep his temper in check.

"When she wakes up."

Christine groaned. Raoul and the nurse both rushed for the door. The nurse glared at Raoul. "Ladies first, of course," Raoul mumbled. Christine opened her eyes slowly to the bright light of her hospital room, wishing for the comfortable dimness of Erik's house. "Morning sleepyhead," Raoul murmured from above her.

"What time is it?" Christine groaned again.

"Eleven oh four," the nurse butted in, taking Christine's temperature. "Now, let's see that scarring."

"Scarring?" Raoul asked, panicked.

"Yes, scarring," the nurse practically spat in Raoul's face. She helped Christine sit up. "There you go, dear." Raoul bent over to look at Christine's back. "Do I have to call security?" the nurse threatened. He retreated back into a corner of the room. The nurse noted the changes and helped set Christine back again. "There. You have one more again today. That makes for a total of 18," she chewed on her pencil as she stared down at the charts. She looked up at Christine. "The doctor will be here in an hour to sign your paperwork." The nurse rehung the clip board and walked out of the room, throwing one last glare at Raoul.

Raoul looked over at Christine with concern. "Scars?"

"Yes, scars. They're weird shaped. I don't know why I have them, but I'm not worried. It'll probably just clear up on its own," she lied. "How's Phillipe?" Christine asked, changing the subject.

"Same as ever," Raoul grumbled.

"Ah. I see. He still -"

"Yup."

"Damn. And now he owns the company too?"

"Yup."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. My father thought that I was too young to handle such responsibility, so Phillipe got every last cent of the business."

"How did he not see -"

"You know he was always blind to Phillipe's faults. Oh well. My mother left me a trust fund I can access once I get married, but until then, I'm stuck working with the drunk, self-proclaimed Don Juan, dope-headed Phillipe and his 'friends'."

"Jeez. And I thought my life sucked."

Raoul laughed. "Christine, you just got hit by a bus, and you think that my life sucks?"

Christine blushed. "Well, you know how dangerous they say those lattes are for your health," she joked.

He chuckled. They sat enjoying the peaceful silence. Finally, Raoul stood. "I'm going to go get that doctor."

He returned quickly with an older doctor than Dr. Naismith. The doctor glanced over the folder sitting on the counter and nodded. "You're clear to go Miss Dah-ay." He didn't even look up as he placed his signature onto the form, handed it to the nurse and walked out.

The nurse checked the form and brought a wheelchair. Christine groaned. "Do I have to?"

"Yup. Hospital procedure. Wouldn't want you to sue the hospital because you tripped and fell down the stairs."

"And if I promise not to sue?" Christine asked hopefully.

"Sorry." The nurse helped Christine into the chair.

---------((0))

"Dinner tomorrow at eight?" Raoul asked standing on the door frame of Christine's apartment.

"Would love to. Where we going?"

"Hmmm... there's this one Mexican restaurant downtown."

"Sounds wonderful."

"See you then, Christine."

"Bye," Christine whispered as he left. She shivered. It was as if the temperature had dropped ten degrees.

---------((0))

_He shook me awake. "Why? Why do you do this, Christine? Why? I love you! Why cannot you give me your heart along with your soul? I have never loved any like you! I never will again! Why do you cast aside my love for some eye candy? He is only using you so that he can get his mother's money! Do you not know? Christine! Christine..." Erik sobbed into my hair as he held me on his lap, cocooned in blankets and unable to move or protest. "Erik loves you so much. He needs you. The pretty boy does not need Christine. The pretty boy is not capable of having as much love as Erik. Erik wants Christine. All of Christine. Not just her soul. She did give him her soul though. As Erik's first gift, he has never seen anything so beautiful. Erik needs her heart. Then Christine would be able to sing so well that the angels would fall to jealousy." He hugged me tight. I couldn't breathe. The room started to sway. He suddenly loosened his grip and looked down into my eyes. I saw such childish wonderment and awe that my heart twisted. _

"_Let's go sing, Erik," I nearly whispered. He nodded and reluctantly let go of my warm body._

"_Yes, let's..." he muttered quietly. He gently untangled me from the blanket and set me on my feet. He stood and brushed himself off._

_---------((0))_

"_You will get see an ad today for that competition I mentioned the other day." Erik swept me in and whispered in my ear. _

_He said that dancing would help my rhythm problems. He was teaching me the salsa. We both knew that he just wanted to hold me, but everything in Erik's world obeys only Erik, and I wanted to be let go before I was late for work again._

"_You will enter it. I haven't put this much effort into your voice for you to just sing alone in your apartment." _

_I started. "How often do you watch me?"_

"_Oh Christine, don't you know how we are connected? I can see you whenever I am relaxed or whenever you are particularly emotional." He held me tighter to his body. I shivered. "I can see you when you are with that Raoul." He said Raoul's name as if it were something that he had just stepped in, then scraped off the bottom of his shoe. "You will not go with him to dinner." He was getting angry again now, his grip suffocating. He grinned. "If you do, it will not go unpunished."_

"_Will you keep me prisoner here again, like your slave?" I asked nastily._

_He cried out as if I had struck him. "Is this what Christine thinks of her Erik? No, not slave, I don't want you to be just a captive," he pleaded. "I want you as my wife."_

_His wife. I blacked out._

---------((0))

**I couldn't think of any references to put in this chapter; sorry, Muse. There's an almost-allusion to Harry Potter in here, though. To Maat, thank you for your review. You are completely right. It wasn't working anyways. I can no more keep myself from giving you a written chapter than I can keep the breath from my lungs. Thank you to all who reviewed. This week is spring break, and I'm on staycation, so I think I'll update sometime this week.**

**Terrified of getting my wisdom teeth out,**

**Raven Sharpe**

**(posted π+0.01 day (yes, I know I'm a math geek))**


	10. Vendredi

Christine shrugged her jacket off as she walked through the elevator doors. She hung it on the coat-tree inside the office doors. A portly man in an obnoxiously green suit with a floppy bow tie walked up to Christine.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Christine Daae and I am an editor."

"Ah yes, you were _sick_ for the last two weeks weren't you?" Christine tried not to choke on his cheap cologne.

"Yes, I was. I got hit by a bus."

"Hmmm. Why don't you show me what you were working on when that idiot, Leferve retired."

"Pardon, what is _your_ name?" Christine led the man exuding noxious fumes to her desk.

"How _rude_ of me. I am Piangi Guidicelli. Your new boss and beloved husband of the world-renowned Carlotta Guidicelli."

"Nice to meet you Mr. Guidicelli." Christine held out her hand. Piangi looked at it as if it was diseased.

"I would be delighted if you would call me Signor Piangi." He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Onwards, then?"

Christine sat in her chair and pulled out the Sorelli manuscripts. "Here they are. I was almost done with this project when I had to take a health leave."

"I see," he said scanning over them, obviously not understanding any of the correctional marks. "And when will this work be done?"

"I think it should be done by sometime next week. It all depends on how well the last stories' grammar is."

"Wonderful," Piangi said under his breath as he handed the papers back to Christine. "I would like to see this on the presses next week."

"Ah -"

"No arguments. This is a business for profit, and if you are not part of making that profit grow, then you are only in the way. I will check up on you later today." He strutted out of the cubicle.

"It takes more than a week to get a book onto the presses, _sir_," Christine muttered to herself.

---------((0))

"He's just like her, Meg. He wears the most hideous shade of booger green, and smells like those perfume samples you find in magazines."

"Blech."

"And that's not even the worst of it. Get this, he's Carlotta's husband."

"Ewww. Say no more, say no more! He sounds like a total creeper to me."

"He doesn't even know how a book is published. I'd be surprised if he could read."

"Jeez. I thought even Carlotta had better taste than that."

"Ugh. How am I ever going to survive this?"

"The same way you survived Leferve. Grit your teeth and take it."

Christine sighed.

"You know, you could always go back to singing."

"I might. I just might, Meg."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I saw an ad today for some talent show with a huge grand prize, and I signed up, then and there."

"That's great! Call me and tell me how it turns out!"

"I will. Gotta go, lunch is almost over."

"Wait! I never yelled at you for missing our shopping trip!"

"Meg! I got hit by a bus!"

"That's still not an excuse!" Meg joked.

"I know. And I have another date tonight with my blonde hunk."

"Those black slacks and the sparkly red halter top."

"Thanks so much Meg! Bye!"

"Call me!"

---------((0))

"I love the stars. Especially at this time of year."

"Yeah. How's the cookie dough ice cream?"

"Much better than yours. Vanilla. You never were very adventurous." Christine tugged on his hand as they walked along the sidewalk. "I remember going out to the countryside with Dad one weekend. We pitched tents and built a huge bonfire. Well, he did. Then he took me out to an open field, and he showed me all the stars. You could actually see the Milky Way. It was... spectacular. They sure are beautiful."

Raoul looked over at Christine. "Yes, yo-they are."

She met his eyes and they stopped. He leaned into her lips. Christine's eyes focused on something behind Raoul and she screamed.

Raoul whipped around. "Holy Hell!" From the street lamp was dangling the body of Piangi Guidicelli.

---------((0))

"It's O.K. Christine. Shhh. It's O.K." Raoul stroked her hair as he pulled her onto his lap. A police officer approached them. Raoul tightened his hold on Christine.

"It's O.K. Sir. We just need to talk to your girlfriend here."

Christine pulled away from Raoul, leaving him sitting on the chair in the police station.

"Right this way, ma'am." He pulled open a door and motioned to a chair. "Sit, please. The detective will be with you in a moment."

Christine pulled out the chair with shaking hands and cautiously sat. _They already have my statement. What do they want now?_

The door opened again to a harassed-looking man of Arab descent in his late forties. "My name is Nadir Kahn, and I am the chief investigator of this case. It is a pleasure to meet you Miss..." he looked down at the folder, "Daae." Christine shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you," she forced out in a quiet voice.

"I am sorry for keeping you here so late, but we found a note on the body addressed to you, Miss Daae."

"A note? For me? I don't get it." she shook her head vehemently.

"Yes, a note Miss Daae. Here," he pulled out the note and slid it across the table, "read it."

"Christine – My oath does not apply to those nearest to you. Stay away from the boy. He may be next... Oh, God."

"The note is complete nonsense to our forensics team. Perhaps you would like to enlighten us as to what the contents of this note mean."

Christine pulled herself together. "No. I have no idea sir. Christine is a common name. Perhaps it was addressed to someone else."

Nadir studied her long and hard. "Thank you for your time, Miss Daae. Feel free to come in if you feel you remember any more details. Anything would help us to solve this poor man's case."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Kahn." Christine walked out of the room.

Nadir looked straight at the one-sided mirror. "Follow her."

---------((0))

"I – would you like to stay, Raoul? You look dead on your feet." Christine stopped. "Not literally, of course, but..."

"Sure, Christine."

"I don't really think you'll fit on the couch. You could sleep with me... No. Not in that sense..."

"It would be just fine to sleep next to you, Christine."

"Thank you, Raoul. I love you so much."

"Me too, dear. Me too."

---------((0))

_I couldn't see anything. It was like being stuck in a void. I was weightless._

"_I warned you. I told you not to, and you went right ahead and blatantly disobeyed me, Christine." He was clam, dangerously calm._

"_Where are we, Erik? Let's just go back to your house," I pleaded._

"_Oh, but you cannot." Erik mocked. "Your dear lover is there and it simply would not do to have you together. No. You must remain here, with me. By the Great Charter, is it so hard to just give in?"_

"_Erik..." Christine ventured cautiously, "Why is Raoul in your house?"_

"_Because, Christine, he was so close to you, and, what is more romantic than sharing your dreams with your lover?"_

"_Erik, leave him alone. I – I swear that I won't even look at him again. Just set him free."_

"_You'll tell him to go and never come back?"_

_Christine sighed in defeat. "Yes. Just don't harm him. Please."_

_Erik deliberated for a moment. "You must promise me one thing. You must wear this ring on your left ring finger." He procured a silver ring with a black jewel in it. The jewel swallowed all of the light that came near it, like the void._

_I winced at the cold metal touching my flesh as I put it on. "I promise."_

---------((0))

**Poor Raoul. Or maybe not. Not even I really know if his motives are pure. Keep reading!**

**Raven Sharpe**

**(posted 03-17-10)**


	11. Sabado

"Christine! Christine, wake up!" Raoul shook Christine. "Wake up!"

Christine groaned. "Yeah?"

Raoul sat back. "Oh, thank God." He sighed. "I thought I'd lost you!"

"No. I'm here."

Raoul looked her in the eye. "Christine, you need to tell me about Erik." Christine turned away. Raoul grabbed her chin and pulled her back to face him. "I need to know."

"I know. It's hard." Raoul hugged her close. Christine twisted the ring on her left hand. "A little over three weeks ago, I dreamed of a masked man who offered me singing lessons. I thought, 'hey he's just a dream, what harm could it do?' Oh, God how I was wrong. He never was 'just a dream'. I wish he was. I wish I could just wake up and shrug him off like a bad dream, a figment of my imagination. Well, he taught me to sing and, well, there is no such thing as a free lunch. He took my soul in return."

"Oh, God."

"That's not all. He – he killed Piangi. He murdered him as a warning to stay away from you. He wants me as his wife. I'm sorry, Raoul. I love you and I don't want him to k-hurt you. I never meant to -" Christine sobbed into Raoul's arms.

"I know, I know, sweetheart."

"What are we going to do?"

"We're going to get married."

"What?!"

"Yes. We're going to go to the court house and we're going to get married right now."

"Wha-Why?"

"Because I love you and I'm not afraid of that ugly bastard." He pulled out a huge Edwardian ring out of his jacket pocket. "I was planning on proposing to you last night... but..." He knelt beside the bed. "Will you marry me, Christine?"

"I – I - I will, Raoul. Let's get married."

"Today."

Christine hesitated. "Yes, I guess today is as good as any day."

---------((0))

"Oh my God, Meg! I'm getting married!"

"When?!"

"Today."

"Christine I'm gonna kill you! You're getting married and you can't even invite your best friend since diaper days to the wedding?"

"I'm so sorry Meg. It just happened so fast! He, like, just proposed to me. I don't even know what I should wear!"

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you didn't wear anything at all."

"Meg! Not helping!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know that prom dress from junior year?"

"You mean the white one your mom made out of curtains?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Duh! I remember that I used to get teased because it looked so much like a wedding dress."

"Well, it also didn't help that the theme was 'A Night in Vegas'."

"Oh my God. I can't believe I agreed to this."

"It's Raoul. You can't go wrong."

---------((0))

_Don't do this, Christine..._

She shook her head. _I want to marry Raoul, and I will._

_Don't do this..._

Christine massaged her temples. Raoul snapped his phone shut. "Are you O.K., my dear?"

Christine smiled. "Yes, I'm fine," she lied.

"They're ready for us." He took Christine's arm and led her down the aisle towards the magistrate.

"Do you, Raoul de Chagny, take Christine Daae to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, until death do you part?"

Raoul pulled out a wedding band. "I do."

_Stop!_

"And do you, Christine Daae, take Raoul de Chagny to be your lawfully wedded husband,"

_You belong to ME! _

"to have and to hold,"

_MINE! _

"in sickness and in health,"

_ERIK'S! _

"for richer or for poorer,"

_NEVER HIS! _

"until death do you part?"

_LAST WARNING, CHRISTINE!_

"I do." She slipped a plain gold band onto Raoul's finger. Her scars burned like fire.

_NO! YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!_

"You may now kiss the bride." Raoul leaned in to capture Christine's lips in a tender, caring embrace.

"I love you, Christine."

"I love you too."

All at once the pain subsided.

---------((0))

Raoul rubbed lazy circles along Christine's lower back. "I thought you had scars," he pondered.

"I do. Wait... they're not there anymore?"

"Nope."

Christine looked over at his face. "I love you Raoul. Never forget that. I love you so much."

Raoul was already asleep.

---------((0))

_Ropes cut into my skin as I sat up. I tied to a chair! I looked around and saw my room in Erik's house. It was dark. Dead, shriveled roses lay strewn all over the floors and bed. Their rotting stink filled my nostrils and I gagged. "Erik! Erik! Let me go! Erik!"_

"_Really, my dear, you will ruin your voice if you keep on screeching like that." He was calm. Too calm. It seemed like a dangerously thin mask concealing his fiery, ugly rage._

"_Like, Hell! Let us go. We were happy."_

_He turned abruptly from me. "Yes, I suppose that that is all Erik can cause – pain. But, Christine is very good at that too." He sounded despairing. "Christine completed the ultimate rejection of Erik. She flushed his ring down the toilet and married Erik's enemy. She shunned Erik. She even rejected his roses."_

"_Your roses? You scarred me!"_

_Erik didn't even listen. "You left me, Christine. No more. No more." He laughed. I crossed myself. "Oh Christine, don't you know that God doesn't exist down here? There is no one to hear your prayers."_

"_Erik – where is Raoul?"_

"_You inquire about your lover? I have him. Oh yes, I have him. You have a week. Or, rather, he has a week. See, I set this tray before you. Look at the two cups. The silver cup holds white wine. The gold cup holds red wine. Drink the silver cup and your lover stays here forever with me. Drink the red wine and he goes free."_

_I reached towards the tray. "Wait! You have a week. Do not make your choice so hastily. For if you drink the cup of red wine, you stay forever as my wife."_

"_But -"_

"_Until death do you part, my dear. Until death do you part. You would no longer be bound to your boy."_

"_Oh, God."_

_He was angry now. "I told you, God doesn't hear your prayers here."_

_I sobbed. "Can I see Raoul?"_

"_No."_

"_Please?"_

"_No."_

_I sighed. He was acting like a child. "Erik, let me see Raoul, now."_

"_No." He turned on his heel and strode out._

_I moaned. "What have I done? Oh, God, what have I done?"_

_---------((0))_

_Erik crawled back into my room as the last of the candles lighting it were burning out. "Erik is so sorry. So very sorry. But, Christine must understand. She must. Please, will Christine come sing with Erik? She has a competition coming up." He sounded so hopeful. I should have said no. I should have. But who am I to say no to music?_

"_Of course, I'll come sing with you."_

"_Erik is going to untie Christine now. She mustn't try to run."_

"_I won't, Erik."_

"_Here you go." He helped me up. He touched a raw spot caused by the ropes. "Oh, Erik deserves to die for hurting his Christine. He loves her so."_

"_It's O.K." I was too tired to protest. He led me towards the music room._

_---------((0))_

**Well, damn. End of the pink, fluffy romance. I wonder what POTO would've been like had Raoul and Christine run off after that night on the roof. Would Erik have chased them? I don't know. Sounds like another fanfiction to me. It's yours if you want it. I can't get any inspiration off of that idea. **

**Enjoying the sun and warmth we haven't felt in 115 days,**

**Raven Sharpe**

**(posted 03-19-10)**


	12. Domingo

Christine curled up closer to the warm body in her bed. She smiled, contentment filling every cell in her body. "Mmmm... Raoul." She shot up. "Oh my God! Raoul!" She shook him, hopelessly. "It's all my fault! Raoul! I love you! Don't give up!"

The phone rang.

"Hello?" Christine spoke into the phone, tears still thickening her voice.

"Christine! What happened? You weren't at yoga yesterday, and you never miss..."

"How do I explain? Were do I even start?" Christine paced anxiously in front of the bed.

"The beginning is always a good place."

"Ha, ha. I wish."

"Come on."

"Jules, I'm married."

"What!?"

"Yeah, To Raoul de Chagny."

"Wow. And you didn't tell me, why?"

"These last couple days have been hell."

"Yeah, and..."

"Oh God, he won't wake up. It's all my fault, Jules. All my fault. If I'd never – if we'd never – he'd be alright."

"It's O.K. It's O.K. Now, have you called the ambulance?"

"No..."

"I want you to get out your cell phone and dial 911 right now. Stay on the line with me."

"O.K." Christine pulled out her cell phone and punched in the numbers.

"911, state your emergency."

"My husband, he won't wake up."

"Do you know how to check his pulse?"

"Yes."

"Do that now." Christine lifted her fingers up to his neck.

"It's slight, but it's there."

"O.K. Is he breathing?"

"Yes."

"O.K. I'm sending an ambulance to your house. Where do you live?"

"415 Maple Street Apartment M."

"Good. Now – you said you are his wife?"

"Yes. We got married just yesterday."  
"Congrats. What's your new name?"

"de Chagny. Raoul and Christine de Chagny."

Sirens wailed outside of the apartment building. "They're here now. Thanks for you help."

"You're welcome."

"Jules? You still there?"

"Of course dear. I'm on my way over to your house."

"Thank you. Thank you so much, Jules."

"No problem. I see the ambulances now. I'll be right up."

A knock sounded on the door. "Mrs. Christine de Chagny?"

Christine opened the door to four men carrying various items: a stretcher, a defibrillator, a med pack. "Come in." She wrapped her robe tighter around herself. "He's in here." She led them into the bedroom. They immediately went to work, poking and prodding. They uncovered his nude body and Christine blushed. None of the four men noticed, they were too busy trying to revive her husband.

"Ma'am. We're gonna have to take him into the hospital. We couldn't revive him, maybe a doc can."

"Sure." They started strapping Raoul's body to the stretcher. _My fault, my fault, my fault._

"Let me in." Jules voice drifted in from the door.

Someone mumbled something incoherent. "Let me in! I know her! She asked me to be here!"

Christine walked toward the door. "Let her in."

A medic moved aside and Jules strode over to Christine. She drew Christine up in a deep embrace and Christine sobbed into her shoulder, losing what little composure she had managed. "It's O.K. It'll be O.K., dear. It'll all turn out right." Christine sniffled and nodded.

"Thank you, so much. I don't know..."

"It'll be-"

"Excuse us." The medics carrying Raoul pushed by.

"Here. I'll drive you to the hospital."

"Thanks." Christine futily tried wiping her running eyes with her already damp sleeve.

Jules grabbed a Kleenex. "Don't worry 'bout it." She led Christine outside to her car.

---------((0))

"Are you sure you can't do without me?" Jules muttered anxiously into her phone. "I was-" She shot a look at Christine, who was counting the floor tiles for the third time. She sighed. "Fine. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Bye." She closed the phone softly, still, it echoed through the silent waiting room. "Christine?" Christine looked up. "They need me. I gotta go. I'll be back tomorrow to see how it's going. O.K.?"

Christine looked up and tried to smile. "It's fine, Jules. I'll be just fine."

Jules walked out. "O.K." Christine didn't hear her.

Christine looked at the phone cradled between her hands. She pulled a note out of her purse and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Christine. Nice to finally talk to you."

"Um, thanks."

"You are calling about your problem?" the psychic prompted.

"Yeah. Christine sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "It is deeper than I ever thought. I need your help. My fiancé -"

"You still have my address, right?"

"Yes."

"Be there in an hour."

"An -"

"I would've said immediately, bit there is someone who needs to talk to you."

Christine turned around to see a doctor with a clipboard standing unobtrusively near the water tank. "Oh! I've got to go! See you in an hour."

"Until then."

Christine snapped her phone shut. The doctor approached. "Do you have any news on Raoul, Dr. ..."

"Cullen." He flashed a smile and held out his hand. "I'm afraid I don't. We have MRI's, CAT scans, and toxicology reports. He's merely unconscious. It seems to be a form of R.E.M. sleep. We would like to keep an eye on him. His scans revealed activity in the pain center of the brain. It is very interesting."

"Oh, Erik." Christine moaned.

"Erik?" Dr. Cullen raised an eyebrow.

"Ah - friend of the family. He and Raoul, erm, were arguing yesterday and now..." Christine turned away to try and hide her obvious lie.

"My sympathies, Mrs. de Chagny. Do you have a number we can reach you at in case Mr. de Chagny's condition improves?"

"Do you have a pen?" Christine rummaged in her purse. Dr. Cullen pulled a pen out of his pocket.

"Here."

Christine scribbled on the clipboard. "Thank you. I'll be back soon." She grabbed her purse and nearly ran out.

----------((0))

Christine took a taxi into the "artistic" part of town. The police knew that drugs were prolific on the streets, but no longer bothered to try to keep the impoverished artists from their highs. Even in daylight, it was not the best part of town to walk through. She silently paid the taxi driver and walked up to the dilapidated apartment building.

"D, E, F," she mounted the stairs climbing up the narrow stairwell. "K, L, M – here we are." She raised her hand to knock on the door and it opened for her, revealing a woman in her twenties wearing dark skinny jeans and a bright green t-shirt. Christine shocked by the psychic's unorthodox appearance, stuttered, "U-um, I-I'm here t-to t-talk to a Ms. Simmons-Schriver?"

The young woman grabbed Christine's hand and pulled her into the apartment. "Come on in! I've been waiting _forever_ to actually meet you. Oh, and please – call me Katie. Ms. Simmons-Schriver sounds too _old_." Katie said brightly. "Tea? Coffee? I'd offer you something stronger, but it'll be easier to deal with your Erik if you are completely sober."

"Ummm... Tea?" Christine looked around at the eccentric furniture. Nothing matched anything else.

"Sure! Be right back!" She skipped into the kitchen. She paused and looked back. "Go ahead and sit down. Just don't sit on the pink chair. That is specifically my roommate's. She'd probably kill you."

Christine looked warily at the furry pink armchair and decided instead on a yellow bean bag with a smiley face printed on it. Katie bustled back into the room carrying two teacups. "Here." She pushed one of the cups towards Christine. "It's my special concoction."

Christine pretended to sip the tea. Katie looked at her. "You know, there's nothing illegal in there. As I said, I need you focused." Katie demonstrated by taking a big gulp of the tea. Christine reluctantly sipped at it.

"Oh! It's good! What do you put in it?"

Katie grinned. "Sorry, secret recipe." She settled into a green fainting couch. "So. Your problem. Let's start from the beginning. Tell me about your deal. Every detail helps."

"Well, My father was a first-generation American. He was originally from Sweden and he still remembered the stories of his childhood. His favorite story was the tale of the Angel of Music and Little Lotte.

"Little Lotte was a sweet little blonde, blue-eyed girl who was visited by the Angel. The Angel taught Little Lotte to sing. He rewarded her for her good behavior with a song and punished her with his silence. I realize now that Papa modeled Little Lotte after me.

"I loved my father. I loved him too much. When he died, a hole was ripped into my heart. It still feels empty today. I gave up singing and moved my career into the safe realm of editing. I had always had a talent for writing and decided that it would be a decent paying job. I never realized how miserable I am in that job. I blamed it all on my father's death and was desperate for anything that would bring even just a piece of him back.

"You see, when he lay dying in that cold, silent hospital room, he, in his delusions, promised me that he would send me the Angel of Music and that I would sing better than Little Lotte, herself. Erik took advantage of this fact. He came to me in dreams, offering to be my Angel of Music – to sing. I was delighted. I never even gave a thought to the consequences of my decision.

"Erik is a genius, Katie. He is a musician, an architect, a doctor, a political mastermind. There is nothing that goes on that Erik does not know about. Oh, but he is hideous. He looks like something long dead and rotting. God might have given him genius, but not even Lucifer can claim a deed as ugly as Erik's face." Christine shuddered.

"He owns my soul, now. That was what he got in return for my voice lessons. He has my soul, but that is not enough for him anymore. He says he fell in loved with me, and he wants me to be his wife. He is jealous - insanely so. Raoul and I used to know each other when we were kids, and I recently bumped into him in a coffee shop. He invited me out to dinner. Erik warned me not to go, but I was so stubborn. I went. We were walking back and – and just as we were about to kiss and part ways for the night, I saw the corpse of my new boss hanging from a lamppost. It was Erik. I know it was. He left a not on the body reminding me that he had warned me. Raoul and I fell asleep together on my bed after hours of the police interrogating us.

"Erik was insane. I think he had Raoul too, that night. He was so angry. I don't know what he did to Raoul, but Raoul was so scared when I woke up. He said he wanted to marry me – that day. I agreed and we left for the courthouse. I was so happy, we fell asleep last night together and... oh, God... Raoul didn't wake up this morning. He's completely comatose, though the doctor said he was in pain. Oh, God. Erik said he is giving me a choice. If I become his wife, he'll set Raoul free, but if I refuse, oh, Erik's going to kill Raoul." Christine sipped at her now cold tea, feeling empty and exhausted.

Katie stood up, now completely serious. "You're in deep shit."

"You think?" Christine sarcastically commented.

Katie paced to the window and looked out. "I don't even know if I can help you. Erik will only gets more powerful with time." She looked back at Christine. She thought for a moment. "Do you know how long Raoul has?"

"Erik said that he has a week." Christine looked down at her twisted hands miserably. "We only have seven days until I have to choose. Why does he have to do this? Why? Why me? Why is he so possessive?"

"He can see through your eyes if he so wishes. This means he was forced to watch you and Raoul make love. As to why you, why does anyone fall in love? Do you really feel nothing for Erik? Would you be willing to leave him alone for the rest of his life? Would he even leave you alone? I can guarantee that even if you let Raoul die and try to move on with your life, no matter how far or fast you run, you will never forget what happened."

"Oh, poor Raoul. Poor Erik."

"Yes, I can't even imagine the torments your poor husband is going through right now at the hands of _poor_ Erik."

"Will you help me? Can you help me?"

"I don't even know if I can. I can't get rid of Erik if that's what you are asking. I can help you get through this with your sanity intact, though. I can't promise much, but I will help you."

Christine looked unsteadily out at the window. "Thanks."

"Let's go see your husband." Katie flounced into the kitchen. "Just a minute, I need to write a note to Hannah. I won't be making dinner tonight. She'll eat that terrible salmon salad stuff of hers."

---------((0))

"Damn, he's a hot one. Even with the catheter."

Christine laughed. "Yeah, you could say we were preschool sweethearts."

"Awww. That doctor of his isn't half-bad either," she stage whispered pointing to Dr. Cullen smiling charmingly down at a poor female intern sitting at the nurse's station. "I got my partner," she said grinning. "And damn, they're hot."

"Will I ever get to meet them?"

"Tomorrow, when you stop by after work, she'll be there."

"I guess I'll see you then."

"Bye!" Katie skipped to the door. "Oh, and she's worse than her husband. I think it might have been almost a mercy killing for him."

"Ummm... O.K."

"You'll understand later. See you!"

Christine sighed and sat in the hard plastic chair next to Raoul's bedside. She took his warm hand and interwove their fingers. She fell asleep on that cold chair in the harsh lighting of the hospital holding her husband's hand, praying that they would both make it through.

---------((0))

"_You only did marry her for the money. You were planning on divorcing her anyways. You could never love her like Erik loves her." Raoul shuddered and clasped his hands over his ears in an effort to drown the voice out. It beautifully whispered its lies in his ears. He couldn't stop it. It whispered in his ears whether they were covered or if he yelled at the top of his lungs. He paced the dark small space. He couldn't see anything. He had felt some kind of tree in the corner of the room and all of the walls were smooth as glass. He didn't know how long he had been there. It felt like years, though his stomach told him that it couldn't be any more than a day. He screamed and beat his fists against the walls trying futilely to silence that voice._

_---------((0))_

_I woke to find myself on a fainting couch in a lavish, 18th century dining room. Erik knelt next to me. He held out a rose. I took it and inhaled the intoxicating scent. He smiled and helped me to my feet._

"_I have dinner set out for you. Please, come eat with me." He was wearing a tuxedo and I, an old-fashioned ball gown. He escorted me to the table and pulled out a chair for me. I looked at all of the dishes around me._

_He smirked. "I assure you it's better than that atrocious hospital food." I glared down at my plate, not wanting to set Erik's temper off. I slowly reached for the duck d'orange. "Your young man is here."_

_I looked up. "Can I talk to him?"_

_Erik's chair fell as he stood glaring at me. "No." He turned to the china cabinet, trying to control his temper. He spoke again, more gently, "You may not." He turned to face me. "Are you done?" I nodded. "Come, let us adjourn to the library." I let him lead me to the library. _

_I loved our political and philosophical conversations in that vast room. He was so intelligent and had read all of the good intellectual novels. I had even asked him where he had gone to college. He said he hadn't, not in the traditional sense. I had shrugged. That was how he responded to any of my attempts to learn about him – equivocally._

_I realized that I had begun to like Erik in some sense. At least as a friend. A friend who wanted to kill my husband. I felt almost betrayed that he was doing this to me. I wanted to turn around and slap him. Though, I'm afraid to think about what he'd do if I did try to slap him. I had learned that his temper was best left undisturbed._

_So many emotions! I know you've felt this way! I felt overwhelmed. I just wanted to hide under a rock until it was all over. Love, hate, betrayal, pity, anger – I couldn't straighten them all out. They stood around me like attackers in a dark alleyway and slowly closed in on me, threatening to shred my sanity with their sharp knives._

_Erik was so gentle that night. Even his few criticisms were soft and spare. He didn't plead for my love, he just stood there, looked at me with his heartbreaking golden eyes and hoped and prayed for it. He loves me. I know it. I almost wish I could love him back._

_---------((0))_

**This chapter is so long. It took me _forever_ to write it. Six pages long – I think that's a record for me. You know another thing that's amazing? I have readers in Korea. And Russia, Australia, Israel, Malaysia... Wow.**

**Another thing – if you haven't noticed yet, this rendition of Erik is not Gerik. He is no lovable, clueless hottie with a bad sunburn. This Erik is Leroux through and through. I, myself, admit that he is a bit darker than I originally thought. Oh well. Sometimes I have no control over the characters. Sometimes they take on a life of their own.**

**Glaring at my unfinished Calc II homework,**

**Raven Sharpe**

**P.S. My lucky number is 13. Don't give up on me, I know exactly when I'll post next. It'll be soon, I promise.**

**(posted 03-27-10)**

**(post script posted 03-30-10)**


	13. Lunes

_**Monday**_

_---------((0))_

_Raoul woke to the utter silence. He had curled into a ball under the tree, praying that Erik wouldn't kill him in his sleep. He sighed. And couldn't hear it. _

"_Hello?" It was lost in the silence. He stood and beat the wall with his fists. And didn't feel it. _So this is today's torture. _Raoul sank to the floor, trying to focus on Christine._

_---------((0))_

"You're late!" Christine jumped. She checked the clock.

"By one minute. And that clock is always five minutes fast."

"You're still late and I will not tolerate such in my publishing company." She grinned at Christine's horrified expression. "Oh, yes. It is mine now, thanks to my dear late husband. May he rest in peace." She dramatically sniffled. "And you -" She shoved her long nailed hand into Christine's chest, "you are going to improve your production or you will be fired! You have gotten nothing finished in the last three weeks! I have several new books for you to go through. You will edit them and they will be on my desk on Monday or else you're fired!" By the end of her schpiel, Carlotta was screeching at the top of her lungs and the entire comb of cubicles was staring at the tall, red-faced woman.

Christine buried her raw hatred and nodded. "I apologize," she said through her teeth. "I will get right on it."

"See that you do, you lazy -"

"Mrs. Guidicelli, I need -"

"It's Senora Guidicelli!" she yelled.

Christine, glad for the distraction snuck back to her cubicle.

---------((0))

"She is even more horrible than before! And those manuscripts she gave me – they're utter crap! She's only going to publish them because her best friend wrote them!" Christine ranted.

"I told you so," Katie smirked.

"Ugh! And if I don't get those three books done by Monday, I'm fired." Christine looked up at Katie. "I'll probably be married to Erik in a week anyways. I don't even know why I try." A lone, cold tear ran down her face.

"Well, you know, if you're dead, you won't have to worry about that hag," Katie jested.

Christine choked on a laugh. "That's true."

"And isn't your husband rich?"

"Yeah."

"So quit."

"But... I guess you're right. I don't have to deal with _Senora_ Guidicelli." She smiled. It all made sense now. Her smile fell. "Either way – I'm either a widow or dead. What wonderful choices," she remarked bitterly.

"You get what you've paid for."

"More like, I pay for what I've gotten."

"Look – I can't tell you what to do. That's against the rules. You have a week. Think it over."

"Thanks, Katie."

"No problemo, kid."

---------((0))

"I quit."

"What? You cannot quit! I – I won't let you."

"Just this morning, you wanted me gone. I'm leaving."

"Fine! We don't need you anyways!"

"I give my two week notice."

"That's not necessary! You will be gone by one today. Clean out your desk. If you are any later than that, I'll call security."

"That's in only 15 minutes!"

"So?"

---------((0))

Christine sighed heavily as she hefted the heavy box onto the table beside Raoul's bed. "I love you. I know I do. You're a great guy. You could hurt anything if you tried. You love me so much. I wish I hadn't dragged you into this mess. My mess. You didn't deserve any of this. I don't deserve you. I never did. I should have just been happy with my boring editing job. I am so stupid!" She picked up his hand and held it gently. "I can't do this alone, Raoul. You have to help me. Please. I love you." She started to sing,

Dare to be happy.

Just Dare.

It won't kill you.

Just someone you love.

Dare to be happy.

Dare to Love.

Dare to escape misery

This one blessed hour.

Dare to be happy.

Just Dare.

It won't kill you

Just... someone you-"

Christine broke down into sobs.

---------((0))

_Raoul dug at the skin of his arms. He screamed until he could scream no more. Nothing worked. He suffocated in the stifling silence. _

_---------((0))_

"_How beautiful!" The paintings before me were spectacular. They stretched from the high ceiling to the floor. I stood agape at the grand swirl of color. He had captured every aspect of natural beauty, from grandiose sunsets to the fragile mist suspended over the waters. _

"_They are merely memories from some of my travels that I tried to create a pathetic replica of, a mere shadow of what they were."_

"_So... you cook, you build houses, you are a doctor – what do you not do?"_

"_Die."_

"_Must you be so morbid?"_

"_I am morbidity. There is a certain beauty to death. It is so simple, so finite, so permanent. God has deemed that I live a long, miserable life. There is only one thing more beautiful than death to me." He stared at me like the answer was obvious. _

_I cleared my throat. "Can we go have dinner now?"_

_He nodded and led me from the room._

_---------((0))_

_Erik lavished attentions on me. I received them as politely as I could. I silently wondered how Raoul was faring. I wondered if Erik would even let him go if I decided to drink the red wine. Would he just murder him anyways, just for loving me?_

_---------((0))_

_Erik closed the lid of the piano. "I should not have had you sing tonight. I believe you are coming down with something. I will go get some tea." He left. I sat in the silence of the music room, absently looking through the numerous opera scores lining the walls. I was next to the organ when I heard it. It sounded like someone was brokenly mumbling. I couldn't make out the words, but I followed the sound to the blank wall to the left of the organ. I ran my hand along the wall, looking for the door. I knew that if only I could find that door, I would see Raoul and everything would be alright._

_Erik cleared his throat. "I made some tea with Echinacea. It has a high vitamin C content and will help you heal faster." I knew that he knew. He knew that I knew. His eyes challenged me to say something about it. He gestured towards the brown leather chair. I broke eye contact and sat in the deep chair. "If you are sick, I will not have you sing in the contest. You must cancel." He sighed. "Oh well." He poured two cups of tea. I picked up my cup. He didn't touch his._

"_Maybe another time," I suggested. We both knew, though, that I never would._

"_Yes, maybe another time..."_

_I sighed. "At least I don't have to go to work in the morning."_

"_Yes," he smiled, "I saw that. I have been wanting to do something about that woman for a while now." An awkward silence stretched as we both sat thinking of Piangi._

"_Why did you kill him?" I whispered finally._

"_He would only have hurt you."_

"_But why did you have to murder him? He might not have been the brightest bulb in the box, but I'm sure he was a good person."_

"_A good person?" Erik chuckled. "He was cheating on his wife with three other women, he bought Leferve Publishing with stolen money, and he had a thriving illegal opium business on the side. He knew nothing about books.. He only bought the business so that he had a legitimate front for some of his illegal activities."_

"_That still doesn't justify murder."_

"_You know why I killed him."_

"_Yes."_

"_The same reason you were searching that wall. You'll never find the door, you know. Seeing him wouldn't make anything easier, anyways."_

_I turned my back to him, trying to hide my tears. He crept up behind me and wiped a tear away. "Erik is sorry. He doesn't want to make Christine cry. She just needs to realize how much Erik loves her. She just needs to accept his love. He won't even ask for anything in return. Just don't turn away from me, Christine. Please. It would kill your Erik."_

_I turned around and embraced him. This was wrong. I knew it was. Seeking to comfort a murderer, a kidnapper, an insane man, it was all so wrong, so twisted. I just couldn't take being alone anymore._

**---------((0))**

**Here it is. Let's see... there are five more days and an epilogue/really long author's note. Thank you in advance for your suggestions, they help make me a better author, therefore making this story better for you.**

**There aren't any more movie/book references – sorry Muse. I wrote the rest of this over vacation, so I'll be posting rather rapidly for awhile.**

**Happy birthday to me,**

**Raven Sharpe**

**(posted 04-13-10)**

**(still not old enough to be of any importance)**


	14. Martes

A silent man in a white lab coat walked into the hospital room in the early hours of the morning. He did not bother to check if the two occupants were sleeping, he had already taken care of _that_. He quickly pulled out a syringe and inserted it into the man on the bed's IV.

He looked down at the man's left hand and snarled to see it entwined with the woman sitting in the chair's hand. He tore their hands apart and placed the woman's gently against his neck.

"_Christine._"

---------((0))

Christine looked down at her husband. She suddenly felt trapped. She grabbed Raoul's keys and flew out the door, the nurses not looking twice at the harried woman.

She sped out of town after what seemed like an age, fleeing towards the budding trees. She pulled into the long gravel road. She frowned at the overgrown path, knowing there was no way she would've gotten through. She pulled the car over and slammed the door shut behind her, almost running into the forest.

She was careful not to step on the newly sprouted flowers. Patches of white and yellow, purple and blue peeked out from underneath the dead, decayed leaves.

Christine finally reached the ledge and sat down, looking down at the world, trying to make sense of the past month. She cleared her mind and leaned back on the tree trunk. Memories of her vacations with her dad floated forward to the front of her mind. They had sat at that very spot and Gustave had pointed out the constellations. They had gone out in the spring time and looked at all of the spring flowers. They had collected particularly colourful leaves and pressed them in Gustave's heavy books. They had fished in the small nearby pond and cooked the few small fish Christine had caught. She wistfully regretted not spending enough time with him, instead of insisting on spending the weekends with friends.

She just sat there and tried to see her life from up above – to see the point. It all seemed so worthless. What had she accomplished? Would the world be any different because of her departure? She stood angrily, and started to stalk back to the car. What right did Erik have to do this to her? She should be enjoying the best years of her life, not contemplating her death.

She sat in the car and stared at the dashboard. She didn't know where to go. Raoul was at the hospital and that would only make her feel more guilt. The apartment held painfully good memories. There was no workplace to run and hide in. She turned the key and pulled out, heading back to her apartment.

---------((0))

"Hey Hannah!"

"Hey love. Whassup?"

Katie pecked Hannah's cheek. "Nuttin'" She ran into the kitchen and hid behind the counter.

"Get back here!" Hannah bellowed. "You owe me a better kiss than that!"

Katie giggled and pounced on Hannah's back. "Nope! I won't! I refuse!" she teased.

Hannah plucked Katie's small frame off her back and tossed her into the big pink chair. "Are you refusing me?" Hannah pressed Katie into the chair with her body.

"Nope!" Katie chirped and pecked Hannah on the lips. She twisted out of Hannah's embrace and skipped to the kitchen.

Hannah gave chase. She rounded the corner and stopped to see Katie checking her phone. "Who ya textin'?"

"Christine," Katie teased.

"Hmmm... and should I be jealous of this Christine?"

"Nope! She's got her own special other. I think they're married."

"And so you know her how?"

"She was that one in the hospital long time ago – remember? Or has the bleach finally made it to your brain?"

Hannah reached over the counter and started tickling Katie.

"Mercy! Mercy! You win!"

"I always win, girlfriend." Hannah flashed a heated smile at Katie.

---------((0))

_Raoul groaned. His head felt like it had been cleaved in two and left for the desert sun. His arms burned where he had torn at them yesterday. Everything throbbed in time with his heartbeat. His legs prickled unpleasantly. He got up and attempted to walk the pain off. He could feel the poorly healed scabs on his legs peeling open and her winced at the pain. He sat to take a look at the damage._

_The prickling returned with a vengeance. He got up again and started to pace the small chamber. Every time he paused, the prickling grew worse. _

_Slowly he gave up on his bloody legs and paced. He was weak with hunger and sickened of the small chamber. He watched the blood run down his legs and an errant thought whispered, "Is she really worth it?"_

---------((0))

"_You're early," Erik commented surprised. He quickly shoved what he had been working on in a drawer._

"_Yeah – I decided to take a nap. I've been rather stressed lately, you know," I pointedly answered. "Can I talk to my _husband?_"_

_His eyes sparked and he tried to keep his temper down. I could see his nails digging into his palms. "No."_

"_Fine. What can I do?"_

"_Marry me."_

"_No. I'm already married. Besides, you gave me four more days. I plan to enjoy them."_

"_By napping?" he retorted. "You know I will never be gone. You were lost to me a long time before you struck the deal. Ever since I saw you, you were mine. You will figure it out eventually. I have all eternity. You will be mine – forever and a day."_

"_No! I will not! I never wanted this. You sick bastard!"_

"_Yes, bastard I am. As to my health, I assure you that it is quite sound. Yes," he said seeing my despaired expression, "my mother probably fucked every man in the county besides my father." He laughed. "He was a businessman who left his pretty, young wife all alone so often – I daresay she got what she deserved in the end." He pointed to his face. "A new meaning to a face not even a mother could love."_

_I stared at him in shock. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."_

"_Do not be. I am not." He turned away. "You should return. Your new friend is waiting." He unlocked the door and ushered me out. I could've sworn that I heard him crying softly as I left._

---------((0))

Christine woke to the cold grey light. She pushed off the thin blanket and groaned. She lay there for awhile, staring up at the ceiling. She finally sighed and sat up. There was nothing to do and forever to do it.

---------((0))

Katie and Hannah laid on the couch together. "So – what is this Christine's problem?"

"Hmmm... it's a bit of a demon problem, I think. I can't really See it too clearly. I can just See something dark and shadowy following her. I think it's _Erik._"

"You mean _Erik_?"

"Yeah."

"Does she know?"

"No – not yet."

"Are you going to tell her?"

"I-I don't know. I'm not sure it would be a good thing for her to know."

---------((0))

"_Welcome home, Christine."_

"_Good evening, Erik." He seemed apologetic for his behavior earlier._

"_Would you like to go sing?"_

"_I would love to."_

_---------((0))_

**This chapter is dedicated to my friends, Katie and Hannah, who are much like the characters in the story. I don't care that she is lesbian, she is still by best friend. Yes, Hannah does hit on me a bit, but it is all in good fun. I believe that they love each other and are as dedicated to each other as almost more than most heterosexual couples. I believe that they should have the right to get married someday, unlike the Katie and Hannah of my story. (steps off soapbox) I'm done now, I promise. **

**On my way to Chicago,**

**Raven Sharpe**

**(posted 04-13-10)  
**


	15. Miercoles

_**Wednesday**_

---------((0))

"Go get some food dear, you look hungry. I'll call you if there is any change in his condition." The matronly nurse looked down at the thin girl with deep shadows below her eyes.

Christine reluctantly left Raoul's side. She walked aimlessly through the halls, watching the people. People died. People lived. Miracles and disasters unfolded. Nurses scuttled from place to place and doctors rushed to save a life, catch their breath and then save another life.

_What is the point? Simply to buy time? They aren't truly saved. They'll probably be dead in a few years anyways._

Christine watched as a wife was forced to turn off the machines that kept her husband alive. She watched as a wife died of an STD she had gotten from her husband's infidelity. She watched all of the helpless people, knowing what was going to happen next, yet being able to do nothing about it. She could do nothing for their pain.

_So God, what is the point? We live, we die – it all seems so pointless._

She wandered back to Raoul's room. His brother hadn't visited him once. In fact, the only visitor he got was her. She looked back at her life and saw how trapped she was. Even if she was free of Erik, she would forever be running, forever be avoiding the music. She might not have a physical cage, but she would be held captive in the cage of her own mind. She would never know what it would be like to just give in to Erik.

She walked slowly down to the cafeteria and bought a cup of expresso. She needed to think things through without Erik.

---------((0))

_Raoul couldn't move. It felt like someone was laying on his chest. He struggled to breathe. He tried to stay conscious and resist the urge to fall asleep. If he fell asleep, he knew he would die. It was so tempting to just give in, just for a moment. He tried to lift his hand to pinch himself, but it took too much effort. Even his fingers felt as if they were made of lead._

_---------((0))_

**I know it's short. I tried to write these next couple chapters to be as short as possible. I don't want to bore you with this period of time in limbo. I only have a few ends to wrap up and then we have the final two chapters and a last author's note.**

**Reading manga for the first time,**

**Raven Sharpe**

**(posted 04-13-10)**


	16. Jueves

_**Thursday**_

---------((0))

_Raoul braced himself for today's torture. Nothing happened. He cautiously let his guard down and laughed at his foolishness. Maybe today he would be freed. Maybe he would be able to go back with Christine. Such warm thoughts brought light to the darkness around him._

---------((0))

Christine looked out the window as the scenery flew by. She reached the country road and turned onto it again.

She wandered aimlessly in the woods for hours, as if saying goodbye one last time.

White flowers caught her eye and she picked a bouquet to take to the hospital room. Flowers were gently carried so that no petal was crushed.

She looked down at her hands and saw the bloodstains. Her screams echoed in the forest and flowers fell to the ground. The red refused to come off, but it was already ingrained into her skin. Christine looked down at the evil flowers and saw they were bleeding also. She shuddered and stepped into her car, shaking the whole way back to the hospital.

---------((0))

"_I missed you last night, my dear," Erik quietly commented from his dark corner. I could barely make out his figure, his white hands playing with a dead rose. "Quite a pity, actually. I was going to give you a gift." His voice was saturated in false sorrow. "Ah well. I guess I shall have to give it to you now." He stepped into the light and led me to the blank wall of the music room. He took off him mask and examined the wall closely. He spanned his long hands over a certain area and pressed his forehead against the wall and whispered something.I gasped as the wall disappeared and left a gaping black hole._

"_I will let you talk to him. You only have a short while. I will be nearby," He warned me as he turned on his heel and disappeared._

"_Raoul?"_

"_Christine?"_

_I stepped into the room. I embraced his thin frame. He was almost as thin as Erik. He trembled and I felt his tears wet my shoulder. "I missed you so much."_

"_Christine! You need to get out of here! Leave me here! He'll kill me anyways. Go! Be happy again. I l-love you," he sobbed into my shoulder._

"_Listen. Erik gave me a choice. If I marry him, he will let you go... but, if I go free, you'll die. O Raoul, I love you so much. I-I want you to be free. I want you to live. Marry someone else – be happy again."_

"_No. Christine. We can make it through together. Don't – no matter what you do – don't marry that bastard. Promise me."_

"_No – Raoul..."_

"_Promise me, Christine."_

"_I-I can't..."_

"_Christine!" Raoul shook her._

"_Put her down if you do not wish to die as slow and painfully as I can make it..."_

_Raoul held on to Christine. "You are already killing me. What's the difference?"_

_Erik stood at his full height and glared down at us. "I have seen and done things that would make you wet your pants, you fop. Your puny, miniscule imagination is incapable of comprehending the horrors I could put you through before you died. I could make you beg for death."_

_Raoul glared at Erik. "Try me, you bastard. I was in the armed forces for a good portion of my life and my father fought in the Gulf Wars."_

_Erik didn't even answer. I gasped as the ground disappeared from underneath me. I heard Raoul's cry of pain as Erik carried me to my room. I could feel the anger radiating from him. He tossed me into a chair and started tying my feet._

"_The boy will be punished. You will stay here. You still have one more day. I will be back. Then we can sing. Rest my dear."_

_Erik strode out and I was afraid for Raoul. Would he even let him go if I agreed to marry him? I waited for what seemed like hours. Struggling against the ropes was impossible. They were a soft material that was tied perfectly, so that there was no way to wiggle free. He was a pro._

_When he finally returned, he had changed clothes and he was wearing gloves. He untied me silently. He helped me out of the chair and supported me as he took me to the music room. He said nothing, just sat at the piano and played song after song. It soothed me and I felt almost happy. I just sat silently in the warm leather chair, just listening to the jazz pouring from the piano. I slowly fell into a deep, peaceful sleep._


	17. Viernes

_**Friday**_

---------((0))

"Christine – I'm so happy you came." Christine hugged Katie. Katie was shaking. "I-I haven't exactly been telling the whole truth." Katie set her coffee down. "I knew Erik. I know his tricks. My father was an American journalist in Iran while I was growing up. He often left me alone in the waiting area at his workplace for long spaces of time while he finished something up. One day, a dark shadow seemed to creep into the building. I saw it and screamed. The shadow cursed and grabbed me. He held me captive for a week, during which I got into a few too many of his private files. He probably still has them all. I doubt he even trusts the landfill with some of that information. Anyways, I learned a lot about the man. He is guilty of every crime I can name. He has murdered, blackmailed, committed treason many times over to many different countries. He answers to no power other than himself." Katie looked over at the park and the budding daffodils.

"I am afraid for you. I'm afraid he'll hurt you beyond redemption. He loves you. You are the objective, and the blackmail provided, his mission. He may have become a doctor, but he is still an agent at heart."

Katie looked Christine in the eye. "I wish I could help you. I can't, and you know that." She hugged Christine. "Whatever choice you make – it is only as you wish it. Happiness is relative, if you choose to be happy where you are, you will be happy." Katie teared up.

"I'll miss you either way. Hannah and I are moving to a place where we're more accepted. Hannah got fired the other day because of us. I wish things were different, but we are where we are, and we just have to live with it."

"I'll miss you too, Katie. Tell Hannah I said 'hi.'"

"Goodbye, Christine."

"Bye." Christine stared at the retreating back of her last friend.

---------((0))

_Raoul shivered. The cold seeped slowly into his bones, stabbing through every cell of his body. He shivered. And shivered more. His sides ached and his eyes watered. He just wanted it to end. He rubbed his feet trying to get feeling back into them, knowing it was futile. He was going to die. He knew it. Why couldn't Erik just kill him?_

---------((0))

**Only a few more left.**

** Raven Sharpe**


	18. The Last Day

_**Saturday**_

---------((0))

Christine woke to the cold finality of morning. Her last morning. Her bare feet touched the cool floor and she slowly got up. She filled the tub with hot water and scented oils. She made an extra effort to make herself look nice. If Raoul was going to see her tonight, she wanted to be pretty for him. _It'll at least the mortician's job easier, _she laughed. _I'm starting to think like Erik._

She sat down at the kitchen table and started to write a letter. She poured her heart into the letter. Page after page she filled with her loopy cursive. She told Raoul everything. She told him about the Angel of Music. She told him about how happy he had made her. She told him about Katie and Hannah. She told him about Erik. She told him why she had done what she was planning on doing. She kissed the letter and sprayed it with her favorite perfume.

She told him to keep living after she was gone. As much as it hurt to think of him with another woman, it hurt more to think of him spending the rest of his life alone.

Tears fell uninhibited, blurring his name, written lovingly on the front of the envelope.

---------((0))

_The chamber lit up in a flash of brilliant white light. Raoul looked around, finally seeing his surroundings. A tree grew in one corner. He could almost imagine a breeze ruffling the oak leaves. He was in a forest of oak trees, all identical. He placed a hand on the trunk of the magnificent tree and immediately recoiled. It was not wood but metal. _

_A thin wire hung from the lowest branch. A thin wire with a loop at the end – like a noose. Raoul backed up against the mirror. _

_He cried out. The mirror had burned him! He sat in the middle of the room, keeping a steady eye on the noose, as if it was going to wrap itself around his neck at any moment._

---------((0))

Christine held Raoul's hand as she fell asleep. Distantly she registered that it was a bit feverish.

A solemn man walked into the room and saw Christine and her letter. He hissed and snatched the letter away, burning it in the sink in the hospital room.

---------((0))

"_Have you decided, my dear?"_

_Christine shuddered. "I can't do this, Erik. Don't make me do this."_

"_I will give you until 11:59 tonight. Decide! Be my wife or let kill him!" Erik stormed out of the room._

_Christine looked at the tray. She touched one chalice, then the other. "I can't do this. God, give me strength. Suicide or murder?"She sat staring at the two glasses._

_---------((0))_

_Christine realized at some point that she had no timepiece. Death could come at any moment._

_---------((0))_

"_Choose!" Erik materialized. "Drink the white wine and you are free, but your lover stays here forever! Drink the red wine and your lover goes free while you stay forever as my bride!"_

"_Please, Erik! At least give me until dawn. Please?"_

"_Fine! I can wait a few more hours, my Christine, but at dawn I will choose for you!" He laughed. "I may choose to split that glass of red wine between you and your lover!" He cackled as he slammed the door. I made the sign of the cross and returned to staring at the two glasses trying to fathom the answer to my problem._

_---------((0))_

_Dawn was approaching. I just knew it. I took a deep breath and gathered my breath as Erik reentered my room.. I looked down at the two glasses on last time, picked one up, and drained it staring into Erik's eyes. The corpse grinned._

_---------((0))_

Somewhere, deep in the hospital, a man screamed. And the sun rose.


	19. Forever and a Day

Autopsy Report

Autopsy: 0844po21t2334o

Decedent: Christine Daae

Autopsy Authorized By: Dr. Destler

Identified by: fingerprints and photo ID

Rigor: absent

Age: 29

Race: White

Sex: Female

Length: 63 inches

Weight: 125 lbs

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Blonde

Body Heat: Refrigerated

Clothing

Jeans.

Gray sweatshirt – no insignia.

2 Brown tennis shoes.

2 White ankle-length socks.

Green t-shirt.

Bra.

White panties.

17 Hair pins.

External Examination

Slightly underweight female with no outer trauma indications.

X-rays

No trauma indicated.

History

See attached forms.

Pathological Diagnosis

Toxicology

Clean. No drug or alcohol usage. No poison.

Cause of Death

Unknown.

Manner of Death

Natural.

* * *

Certification of Need for Psychiatric Hospitalization

Patient: Raoul de Chagny

I, Dr. E. Destler, am a qualified physician who examined the patient at St. Luke Hospital. In my opinion the patient is mentally ill and poses a threat to himself and/or others. I believe that therapy and heavy medication are the best course of long term treatment.


	20. A Last Note

**First, I want to thank all of my readers. Without you, I would not have the motivation to keep writing.**

**Secondly, I want to thank my reviewers. I love to hear your criticism.**

**Thirdly, I want to tell you that I have another story in the works. The Scarlet Tango ought to be up soon. I actually started writing this last year, but still haven't finished yet.**

**Also, thank you to all of the people in real life that had to listen to me babbling on about my frustrations.**

**Would love to chat, but calculus is calling.**

**Raven Sharpe**

**(FINALLY FINISHED 04-13-10)**

**P.S. Phantom's Only Christine recently asked me to write a sequel. Would you, my readers, want one? Or – would you rather have something new? I eagerly await your response.**

**(Post Script added 04-17-10)**


End file.
